


Reunions

by dante0220



Series: Divides Crossed [12]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Religious Conflict, Sibling Bonding, paradise realized, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-02 02:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14534718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dante0220/pseuds/dante0220
Summary: After returning from the Severn, life goes on.  Merlin and Josiane complete their project.  Rodor and Mithian govern and prepare for the upcoming wedding.  Then a group of refugees arrives at Whitgate bringing joy and conflict with them.  Will these things be resolved?





	1. The triple goddess observes....

**Author's Note:**

> This is the twelfth installment of the “Divides Crossed” series. Merlin and his cohorts (this version at least) belong to the BBC and Scyfy. Britomart is from Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene. Ywain and Malodius are from Chretien's Yvain Knight of the Lion. Josiane and her cohorts are adapted from the Boeve de Haumtone.

Prologue

The triple goddess speaks….

_Thunder rumbles. Lightning flares. Storms both literal and figurative lash out at Britannia’s landscape. Even as the Greater Good pulls Camelot’s willful weeds from the garden, other noxious pests sprout, grow and fester. Meleagant schemes in Cawdor. Traitors ride to Destination Unknown to Bard and Reader (but not to me) alike. Arthur sulks in the midst of his own self-inflicted mess. Gaius awaits judgment of a higher sort. Nemeth bears some pain and scars. Even my own priestesses deal with their own issues. Truly threats rise from within and without._

_Nemeth…Ah… The kingdom used by Fortune to illustrate her long standing point: what was on the bottom can quickly come to the top. Rodor and Mithian, as we’ve seen, have glided on Opportunity’s, Diplomacy’s and Luck’s breezes to buttress the kingdom’s outlook. Size has more than doubled. Reputation has grown by leaps and bounds. Influence has her drifting toward the political center. Whereas she only had four or five stellar knights in an average at best field, now her numbers swell. Whereas Kay would have become another Pendragon, now Mithian looks to the future. Apprenticeship’s robes fit Emrys well. Her newfound friends lend further stability._

_Speaking of which, even as Guinevere, Hunith and Josiane adjust to life in Whitgate’s court, it seems that more arrivals are about to cross the drawbridge so to speak. Do not trouble yourself, Good Reader, these travelers bear but the gladdest of news. The tidings shown between Hunith and Emrys not to mention Gawain and Josiane only prove the first plucks from Harmony’s harp._

_One of those waits here. The others come from Gaul. They are guided by another of my priestesses, Sister Thessala. How these events affect the rest will determine much….._


	2. Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's dream gift for Mithian comes to life with a little help from his friends.

Chapter 1 [Whitgate—Courtyard/Garden Area—A Week After “Garden”]

Spring finally meandered into Britannia. Warm winds blew _Jack Frost_ back to his Arctic domain. _Sol_ softened frozen sod. Rain gently cascaded across budding plants. Animals emerged from months’ long hibernation. Peasants grooved the ground in preparation for planting. Activities picked up.

And in the citadel, it was no different…..

 

****

 

Merlin looked up into the sky. His eye tracked the clouds’ gentle flotilla across pale blue sky. He smiled at _Sol’s_ renewed warmth. His ears perked to the birds’ gentle calls and songs. Still Hesitation nagged at him. Chill still lurked waiting to ambush tender leaves and shoots. And then Prejudice still loomed large…..

…against magic and his desired project, a wedding present for his Princess Fair….

He glanced at the dormant surroundings. He knew the bare branches would sprout buds at some point. The mud from that morning’s rain would firm up again soon enough. Still Perspective offered something else. In his mind’s eye (or perhaps through the Dreamscape), he conceptualized his goal. He’d seen a clearing lined with flowers. Roses and jasmine vines snaked up arbors. Lilacs, tulips and violets contributed to Scent’s cornucopia. Apple and dogwood would explode in blossoms. Mountain laurel would frame some of the borders along with that green undergrowth plant.

Uncharacteristically he relaxed. His eyes closed. _Memoria_ had wafted a gentle tune perhaps from a rebec on the previous night. He drifted. His feet barely touched the ground. He visualized a sweet dance with his beloved on that very spot in the full blooms….

…a dance which would come rain or shine if his idea reached fruition….

He twirled. Body followed Imagination’s lead. Grace showed herself in fits and starts. Inexperience tripped him up at several turns. Still he pressed on. He’d try. He’d be perfect for Mithian if it killed him.

A clapping broke his concentration.

Surprise jarred him from his reverie. He turned to find Josiane watching him. “Princess! Sorry. I got into the moment.”

She smiled. Nonchalance nudged a shrug from her shoulders. “I enjoyed watching you, Merlin. Love and Passion should guide us. Ambiance is our guide. I am not Master Peter. How I wish he’d have seen you.”

“He’d be writing a poem about it.” Embarrassment flushed his cheeks red.

“Aye. He would be. And what would be wrong with that? This is art, my Friend! It should be imagined! It should be visualized!” She inhaled a deep breath. “I can imagine how Boeve would be here too.” She sighed allowing herself a dreamy smile.

“He must’ve been something else.” He and the others had noticed that particular torch burning brightly. 

“He is. I don’t care what Edgar and those ingrates say. He is alive! I know it!” she asserted. 

“We all have to have faith.” He shook his head. “I still don’t understand how Arthur just let them take over like that.”

“They’re his father’s favorites. Merlin, don’t ever allow nepotism get to you like that. Loyalty should guide us. Still Valor and Merit are worth pondering as well. He fights for our island and your goddess. As such, he was and is due more consideration than just being cast aside as dead,” she reminded him.

“Princess Mithian’s nothing like that. She’d kick me back into line if I did think that way,” he assured her. “You’re right though. Places like this are made for dreams.” He nodded. “I used to dream of giving back to my mother and friends when I was a child. Maybe not like this but they’d be better off than we were in Ealdor.”

“That is your heart, Merlin. Don’t lose that warmth. Princess Mithian is indeed quite fortunate.” She gazed up at the sky for herself. “It’s almost a pity to have to enclose this courtyard. Still our friends will need some cover. The glass will allow for light.” 

“I hope it does. Freya brought me to this really big city on the other side of the Roman Sea. Maybe you might know it. It had this big domed place of worship,” he remarked.

“You are referring to Constantinople. Aye. I have been there. You refer to Hagia Sophia, the great cathedral and marvel of the Emperor Justinian. The domes are wondrous.” Her eyes narrowed. “I wish the inhabitants measured up to that standard.”

He stiffened. “I’m sorry. I….”

“You didn’t know, Merlin. Those ingrates sailed in an armada across the water. They attacked my homeland. After much damage, looting and pillaging, Chaos asserted regency over the land. My father died in battle. Mother led the defense. Still the Emperor Alexander defeated her in battle and carried her off as a trophy. I am fortunate that an uncle looked after me. It was he and my brethren that trained me and granted the scimitar and my carpet to me.” She gazed to the southeast. “I pray she is all right. It’s been fifteen years.” She allowed another sharp breath. “I understand how Sir Gawain feels. He misses Mother as much as I do.”

“Yeah. I’ve told him this. You do know you aren’t alone. Right?” he reminded her.

“I know. Thank you, Merlin.” She walked over toward the back side of the courtyard. There, against the back wall, a pile of flexible wooden timbers and a sizable container waited for them. “The priestesses are resourceful. They located the wood I asked for.” She hefted one of the pieces and bent it. “Light as a feather and yet very strong.”

“How will that stay up there? It can’t be strong enough to hold up what we’re thinking about,” he pointed out. Doubt flavoring his words.

“It’s easier to get up there like this. Once you get it there, I can work my own magic.” A faint lavender glow enveloped her for a heartbeat. “Care to work your craft, Master Warlock? I will keep watch here.”

He nodded. _“Fiodh a thogail!”_ Canary flashed in his eyes. He pointed to the woodpile.

One by one, the timbers floated from the pile. Each in turn zipped through the air. Upon reaching the top of the courtyard walls, they alighted on top of said walls. When the circle had been completed, he guided the other ends together. With his sorcery, he made the beams bend and meet overhead. Then he eased the last stragglers into another circle halfway between the top and walls. He eased his breathing. He relaxed as much as he could. 

“Now the spikes,” she directed.

He nodded. _“Spikes àrdaich! Na fiodh a chumail tèarainte!”_

Almost as if fired from a series of crossbows, the metal spikes flew in an upward hail. They buried themselves into the wood at the intersecting points. Without much sign or wear, they held the configuration intact.

“I’ve already reinforced the walls.” She stepped back into the passage. Within two heartbeats, she flew back out on the carpet. “Now watch.”

“Will this work? I hope it will.” Anxiety gripped him. He trembled.

“There is another like this in Jaffa. It is quite sturdy.” The carpet lifted her up to the wooden framework. She touched the wooden structure. Once again, the lavender glow enveloped her. Then it lit up the entire wooden surface. 

_Another in Jaffa? What does she mean she reinforced the walls?_ He narrowed his eyes. Concern and Skepticism occupied him in those heartbeats. Still he allowed her the time much as she had with him.

The wood turned black. It took on a heavier structure. The beams gleaned in _Sol’s_ light reflecting to the bare eye.

“And now for the cover itself.” She flew about their creation. Her hand touched the spaces between the metal web’s strands. One by one, she repeated the motion for each space. 

In her wake, the air in those areas glowed in a lavender hue. Its molecules shifted in their alignment. The spot shimmered and then hardened. As if working magic with the light, the air warmed considerably.

“And there we have it!” She alighted back on the stones. Then she regarded their handiwork. “We have worked a marvel, Good Prince.” Satisfaction prompted a grin from her. “The first dome in Britannia. It is a true marvel.”

“Thanks to you,” he deflected.

She rolled her eyes. “And you! I helped but this is your dream, Merlin.” She slapped his arm. “What did that knave, Arthur, do to you?” She cursed in her native dialect and spat on the stones. “You do not have to think of that anymore. You’re a Prince. You have a wonderful heart. You love your subjects and Princess. No more doubts.”

“I’m not crowned yet. I….” he started before another whack on the arm stifled that point.

“Merlin, stop. All right?” She exhaled allowing Patience to soothe her jangled feelings and restore Grace to her inner self. “Now, I believe we have some plants to call forth?”

He nodded. For a half dozen heartbeats, he envisioned the dreamscape once again. He allowed the warm breeze from that place to billow through his hair. The scents tickled and teased his nostrils once more. _I wish I could bring this here._

_And why can’t you, Emrys?_ the goddess supposed. 

I don’t want to bother you. I can raise a few things and…. he started.

_As your sister in arms just told you, no more doubts. You serve me. Such a feat as this should stand as a reminder to how magic can bring beauty into the world. Focus and let me work through you, Emrys. Have faith and allow Amor her way. Imagine that place now_ , the goddess advised.

He nodded. He relaxed and pointed toward the bare dirt areas.

_FÀS A-NIS!_ The goddess surged energy through him.

Gentle breezes kicked up throughout the courtyard. Orange and pink glows wafted together. They floated through the air. Then they permeated the dirt seeping until disappearing from view. The dirt shook ever so slightly. 

Then Wonder happened….

Green sprouted from those empty dirt patches. Tender shoots pushed their way out of Dirt’s cover and into Air’s nourishment above. Vines snaked up racing with spontaneous wooden arbors in an unlikely race. Flowers sprouted to their full potential in mere heartbeats. And then they budded. They coaxed the trees into doing the same.

Color and Beauty’s respective symphonies played out. Blossoms opened to please eyes and astound minds.

_And so you have it. Call the others now. I wish for them to see it. I believe we have a witness,_ the goddess observed.

Merlin opened his eyes. He sighed. “Princess?”

“It’s all right, Merlin. I received my wish.” Josiane motioned to an awestruck Peter. “He came out to help with the planning. Accordingly he received a treat.” She noted that the poet scribbled thoughts down on his parchment.

“Peter?” Merlin called.

“My Prince. I was going to help you. I…I….I knew you had magic but….” Peter sucked in a breath and finished his notes. 

“You did?” Merlin raised an eyebrow. How many people actually know? “And this is the triple goddess’ work. She’s working through me right now.”

“She is? She’s here?” Peter dropped to his knees. “Lady, forgive me! I didn’t mean to ignore you. I am in awe of your work.” He kissed the stones at his feet.

_I am here, Gentle Poet. I know you will craft a work befitting our garden. This is why I have guided you here now. I wished for you to witness the creation. Magic and my stewardship are beneficial. As long as we have both here, this garden will bloom. As Faith and Love inspired its predecessor, so shall they sustain this place as well. The dome will remain above reinforced by my will. You will produce an account worthy of this,_ the goddess explained.

“Aye, Lady! I shall! Thank you!” Peter agreed. 

_Thank you, my Child. Emrys, be proud. Perhaps we have worked our magic today. Still I work with what you give me. Now bring Mithian and the others. Let them enjoy this oasis,_ the goddess concluded before going silent.

Merlin sucked in an awed breath. “Unbelievable. She actually made this come to life.” He shook his head. He stumbled along the stoned paths. His noses sniffed deeply of the distinct blooms. Contentment washed away Awe. Indecision and Insecurity disappeared in light of Oasis’ wonder.

“Peter?” Merlin managed to ask.

“Fetch the King and Princess? I’ll get them right away!” Peter scratched one last line. Then he rushed back into the passage toward the citadel’s throne chamber.

“A dream inspired this as well?” Josiane nodded. Admiration lit in her eyes.

“Princess Mithian’s and mine together. It led to this.” He put his hands out to take in the whole courtyard.

“As I said, Merlin, this is truly special. Your love is a sight to behold. With your goddess and _familia_ behind you, you can do anything. No more doubt,” Josiane complimented.

_No more doubt. I can hope!_ Merlin nodded. He glanced toward the passage entrance. The wait would threaten to stop his heart. Still he would persevere….


	3. Mithian's Frustrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mithian stews over current events and deals with her own doubts. Rodor reassures her.

Chapter 2 [Throne Chamber]

Somberness hung heavily in the air. Issues vexed. Opinion remained in short supply. Even as Nemeth moved forward, it seemed to move back.

Nothing was ever easy….

 

****

 

Mithian took a healthy draught from her goblet. Her mind spun over the latest problems to end up before the royal prerogative. She’d read over several disputes between nobles, needed repairs for transportation infrastructure and cries for intervention by peasants and lords alike. Meleagant still pressed for a marriage alliance despite Rodor’s repeated denials to the contrary. Edgar demanded Josiane’s extradition (or her head) back to Hampton. Protests over the Old Religion’s revival had come in. And of course, complaints about Merlin as Prince topped everything. 

Unfortunately counselors remained in short supply….

_The jackals scrounge where they believe there’s easy prey._ She frowned at the three empty seats. Treason left an obnoxious stench in the air. _They know we can’t make any decrees or pass any legislation without them. What can we do?_ She tapped her fingers on the arm rest. _Maybe we could accelerate Merlin’s coronation? He’s already noble despite the opposition to his presence._ She bowed her head. _They’d sentence me to a life in Hell. Why can’t they deal with a man who’s proven himself more times than all of them put together? WHY?_

Rodor studied one of the protests. He sighed and set it back on the pile. “And this is how Arthur feels. The kingdom suffers. Things muddle along. It is like a wagon.” He sipped on his own goblet.

“Father, we have a crisis. You’re talking about wagons?” she retorted.

He rubbed his chin. Contemplation weighed on his brow. He sipped on his goblet. “Whether we’re in a storm or shine, Mithian, our wagon must bear its cargo. A horse can run off. A driver can be ill. The wagon itself can break a wheel. These parts can be replaced if defective or disloyal. Either way, Pain must be borne as we continue on Duty’s path. The goods must make it to market.” He picked up the documents. “These goods.”

“I don’t understand. Where do we find replacements? The law says we can’t just pass laws by ourselves,” she pointed out.

“I pressed on after your mother and brother died. We just named a new lord to Riversmore. We need three counselors. I can name three members of our nobility. We have several to choose from. I was going to suggest Lady Elaine, Sir Galahad and Lord Brumenwald to fill those seats. Merlin will be crowned tomorrow as Prince. By this time next week, he and you will be married,” he clarified.

“Who will be the new High Chancellor? How about First Knight?” she demanded.

He raised his hand. “Brumenwald has trained Peter in the basic parts of the chancellery. Sir Ywain can assume First Knight duties. Trust me, Daughter, it is quite legal and within our precedent. Whatever else happens, the kingdom must function. We maintain our loyalty as they do us.”

She blanched. “Merlin understands that. So does Galahad. I wish I did.”

“Your actions say otherwise. Look at how you served as a diplomat to Camelot. You could’ve pressed your claim to him at any point. Aye it was within your rights. I would’ve supported you. So would the majority of Britannia’s rulers. Still Instinct guided you toward the Greater Good first. You look toward the relations between our kingdoms before your own feelings. You allowed me to decide when to make our move. Have faith, Mithian. You are more capable than you know. So are they. Besides we have other allies. Princess Josiane has knowledge of state craft. Sir Gawain and Lady Britomart can take Galahad’s place if need be. Beyond that, Faith will guide our way. The goddess will send what we she believes we need.”

“Merlin is here. Thank the goddess for that. At least Arthur isn’t torturing him anymore,” she supposed. At that point, she saw Peter run into the chamber. “Master Peter?”

Peter bowed to them. “Sire, Princess, Master Merlin requires your presence downstairs.”

“Our presence? What?” She scratched her scalp. _Why didn’t I pick up on Merlin’s concern? Is he all right?_

“What exactly is going on?” Rodor demanded.

Peter bit his lip. “Follow me. Princess Josiane and he are waiting.” He hustled out into the passage.

_Merlin, what’s wrong? I don’t feel pain. I…._ Mithian started.

_You have to see this. You’ve been so depressed. I…umm…I’ve been working on a surprise for you._ Merlin assured her.

_A surprise? Really? Merlin, what’s going on?_ Mithian pushed.

_Trust me. You’ll love it. Just bring your father,_ Merlin concluded.

She sighed. “Father, we should follow Master Peter.” She ushered Rodor from the chamber and closed the door.

Whatever mystery Merlin had stumbled into, she’d be right there…no matter what….


	4. Debates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Britomart's frustrations boil over. Worries about Gaius. Debates with Gwen and Hunith about Arthur, Gaius and Camelot's attitudes toward magic.

Chapter 3 [Physician’s Chamber]

Several floors away, Britomart considered a heating tincture. Nerves ate at her. Chill shot up and down her spine. Her eye inspected the greenish liquid. Her hand stirred the steaming mix. Hope implored the goddess that this one would hit the mark.

A basin full of failed attempts lay to her left.

She sucked in a heavy breath. Not far from her, her wandering eye picked up on the sleeping Gaius. Fortunately the Valerian root had relaxed him allowing Sleep to claim him. Still said-remedy was temporary at best. Whatever ailed the aged physician lay beyond her knowledge for some reason.

And Frustration flared in her because of that.

“CURSE AND SPAT!” She slapped a stool next to the table. “What is it? Why are you still unconscious?” She quirked an eyebrow. “And why aren’t the priestesses offering help?” That last point raised an eyebrow. They’re usually jumping all over themselves to offer assistance. _So why aren’t they here?_ She ground her teeth. She wished that Master Wyngate could help in this case.

Alas Nemeth’s former Court Physician sat in the dungeon awaiting trial. Treason shackled him as securely as the manacle around his ankle.

“I could really use your help right now, Master Wyngate. If only you didn’t go to Camelot, we wouldn’t have that scene. The Princess’ plans would’ve proceeded as they should have,” she lamented to the air. She slacked Thirst’s burning hold on her mouth and throat. “Let’s hope this works.”

A knocking came at the door.

She frowned. _My outburst disturbed someone. The courtiers don’t believe I should be doing this. Still who’d they put in here if not me? They can deal with it!_ She stomped across the floor and flung the door open. “Yes? I… Oh!” She saw Gwen and Hunith standing there. “Lady Hunith and Queen Guinevere! Pardon me.” She curtseyed.

“Is everything all right? We heard you yell,” Gwen wondered.

Britomart shook her head. “I’ve tried several cures from Master Wyngate’s tomes. Master Gaius’ condition resists the remedies I have. When we were back in Camelot, I noticed he was working through some things for himself.” She shook her head. “I asked the Prince but he didn’t know anything. Master Gaius seemed to be keeping him at arm’s length.”

Hunith stared at Britomart. “That can’t be! Gaius loves Merlin almost like a nephew or son!”

“And yet he kept his distance. He allowed Merlin to be hurt. He watched as Arthur degraded him. He allowed the injuries to Merlin and Sir Gawain.” Britomart glared at the patient. “I used to respect him. It is one thing to stay alive. I heard how he stood back and watched as Uther slaughtered other magic users.”

“Gwen, is that so?” Hunith paled. Disillusionment whitened her complexion. “Did he…?” 

Gwen frowned. She shook her head at the healer. “We…we…” Emotion conflicted and boiled up inside of her. Affection warmed for the physician who’d given her so much advice, counsel and personal care. Guilt burdened her however. Shame chilled her heart. “Uther drove us.”

“And that makes it better?” Britomart protested. “Perhaps you’d like to say that to Lady Elaine, Milady?” She removed the tincture from the heating apparatus with metal tongs. “That will require a heartbeat to cool.”

“What about Lady Elaine?” Hunith recalled her discussions with the young noblewoman. She’d enjoyed Elaine’s humility and gentle demeanor. Questions remained about the other’s pain and skittishness however.

“Uther forced King Rodor to have her mother executed in the square for sorcery. His son isn’t any better.” Britomart noted the tincture’s temperature. 

“That’s not true!” Gwen protested.

“Then why does he hate sorcery so? It wasn’t magic that killed his parents. It was the misuse of it. Besides if Master Gaius didn’t force poison on Queen Morgana then would she have turned? He wasn’t alone. Still, from what my Lady says, for all of his considerable kindness in healing, his soul bears quite a burden, I fear.” Britomart lifted Gaius’ head up. She eased the container to his mouth and gently poured the tincture down it. “If it wasn’t for that insane hate, Master Wyngate would be doing this.”

“I appreciate that you can. Thank you,” Gwen expressed.

“It’s my duty as a healer. Prince Merlin wants this. Let the goddess decide Gaius’ fate. I shall heal his body in as much as I can manage,” Britomart declared. “Question is, can Arthur be King to all? Even to those he disagrees with?”

Gwen sighed. Her heart still ached. Tears streaked her cheeks. “Perhaps if he’s shown another way, he can change? I could make him change!”

“I can’t believe that. You all were so good and loyal to Merlin. I remember when Will died. King Arthur had the bias. Still Merlin insisted that things would be different. I had such hope when you, he, the King and Morgana rode off together. I don’t know what to think.” Hunith shook her head. She wiped Gaius’ head with a damp cloth. 

A knock came from the door.

Gawain stuck his head. “Hey, Brit! How’s Gaius doing?”

“I hope this works, Sir Gawain. Master Wyngate’s books don’t have many more suggestions,” Britomart replied. Lament dragged down her tone and words. She frowned. “Still we will do what we can for him. I expected you to be training with the knights.”

“I was. Merlin’s got a surprise for everyone. I guess we need to see it.” He motioned toward the door. 

“You go, Britomart. I’ll care for him in the meantime. Then maybe I can see?” Gwen offered.

“All right. I will be back shortly.” Britomart smiled to Hunith. “Shall we go, Lady?”

“Please, Britomart, I am a peasant! Don’t….” Hunith started to protest.

He was going to say something. Still a look from his _fiancée_ stilled him. _Whatever. It isn’t worth it!_ He turned and guided the duo down the hall.

Gwen sat beside the patient. “You’ll see, Gaius. Uther’s madness can be cured. Arthur can and will change. You’ll see.” She told him those words.

Question was could Arthur do just that?


	5. Refuge Sought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of refugees runs from Edgar and his men. What connections do they have to Nemeth and those within it? It is surprising to say the least...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay now we’re going to meet some more folks. We got a glimpse of them at the end of “Roles”. Still they actually enter the story at this point. So here goes with the credits… Cligés, Fenice, Thessala and Soredamors are from Chretien de Troyes’ Cligés. Boeve is from Boeve de Haumtone.

Chapter 4 

Much as with many places along the coast, Mist descended across the land. Its opaque nature concealed and chilled both animals and people alike. Those who could hunkered down to wait for the inevitable burning off. A select few pressed on.

Refugees and pursuers alike…..

 

****

 

[Southern Road—Fifteen Leagues from the Camelot/Nemeth Border]

Just off the beaten path, a knight peered out from behind a sizable oak tree. His green eyes struggled to cut through the pea soup mess. Humidity soaked his jet black hair and olive complexion. He frowned and shook his head. _How anyone can deal with this blasted island is beyond me!_ He exhaled and shook his head.

In the two days since docking in Southampton, he and his companions had been harassed, pursued and waylaid several times. Highwaymen had tried to rob them. Edgar’s goons didn’t seem much better. The fog sent them in circles several times. Even the road seemed to pull them the wrong way. Their food would last maybe another day or two at most. 

_Father told me to come here if matters got too difficult. He bade me to seek out my uncle in Camelot. Yet we are going the wrong way. Do they think the other kingdoms will care for a quartet of starving refugees?_ He glanced back toward the group’s camp.

Silhouettes bobbed and wove in the fog. He anticipated that his beloved cared for his mother in their camp. He’d said a prayer of thanks for another member of their group, a mysterious knight claiming to be the Count of Hampton. He’d helped them get away from still other pursuers along the Greek coast. _At least this fog allows us cover. What’s going on though between our ally and his brother? Could I deal without Fenice?_ He immediately knew the answer to that particular question. 

“Cligés, I’ll watch. You need to eat something. The Empresses command,” the other knight quipped. Irreverence and Friendship permeated his tone as much as the chill did to his bones. 

Cligés shook his head. “A band of exiles like we are shouldn’t care about titles, Count Boeve.”

Boeve raised an eyebrow. “Nobility comes from the heart and soul, my Friend. Rank and Thuggery get little in the long run. Your uncle and my brother will learn this one day.” He shook his head.

“Sentiments from your Princess?” Cligés supposed. In the two months since their meeting, Boeve had quoted this mysterious warrior princess/philosopher at several points. He noticed how heavy the other man’s eyes seemed at those points as well. “It does make Mother recall her time with Egypt amongst the Saracens.”

“She survived their harem and time in their numbers. Remember Saracens are people too. Perhaps we may not always agree but we share the spiritual road.” Boeve clapped the other’s shoulder lightly. 

“Your Princess again?”

“Aye. Alas I fear my love dead or worse. If she did make it back here, Edgar would’ve committed horrible sacrileges upon her.” Boeve shuddered. “I advised her to go to Camelot. There she’d be treated fairly. King Arthur’s reputation speaks as much.”

“You should speak with Mother about that. She says I have a sister somewhere in Egypt. More than likely, my father’s army killed her along with everyone else in the palace,” Cligés assumed. He stood. “I’ll be back. Keep sharp watch. This fog conceals the rabble as well as us.”

“I shall. Eat well. We shall be on the trail again soon enough.” Boeve turned back toward the road.

_On the road. Blasted Britannia! What I wouldn’t give to be back in Greece again._ Cligés stalked into the mists. He paced off the seven steps between the roadside observation post and the camp. He softened his frown. He knew his mother had missed her homeland. _Maybe the people would be friendlier further north? One could hope so!_ He saw the flickering firelight. He rubbed his hands together. “That does feel good.”

“I told you to wear that heavier cloak,” a firm voice advised.

“Aye, Mother. I remember.” He coughed. Affection warmed him better than that fire ever could. “Still I would not have you freeze out here.”

“We will be moving again before too long, my Love,” another feminine voice slightly lower in pitch although not in firmness assumed. The brunette woman emerged from the fog. “How I wish this fog weren’t so heavy.” She held a piece of bread up. “You should eat.”

“Give it to Mother or you eat it, Fenice. I wouldn’t have either of you hungry,” he declined. “I’ll eat at the next town.”

“Said you three towns ago,” the maternal voice nagged. “Eat, my Son.”

“You heard the Dowager Empress. You shouldn’t say no to her. Should you?” Fenice supposed.

“Says the Current Empress.” He took the bread from her. “Thank you.” He bit into the grain bread. The offering assuaged Hunger’s complaints for the heartbeat at least. “You shouldn’t be in this situation.”

“I made my choice. I’d rather be here with you than there with that braggart. My stomach would be full. My heart would be empty without you, Cligés,” Fenice retorted. 

“You are both getting enough. Aren’t you?” he pressed.

“We have our share. Boeve and you need yours as well.” The elder woman’s green eyes blazed at him through even that piercing fog. Purpose reminded him of her point. 

He stifled his next question not wanting to run up against her again. “Aye, Mother.” He sat down next to her. He admired how Grace had woven the white and red strands through her mane. Even with Age’s advancing toll, Beauty had given her ways to bear it. “This isn’t the way to Camelot.”

“Nay it is not. Still Boeve’s way and mine are blocked to the north. Our only hope lies west,” the red haired woman noted. “Where is Thessala, I wonder?”

“She went off to scout and wipe out our trail on the roadside,” Fenice reported.

He sighed. How many other Empresses have a priestess as a governess? He’d seen Thessala work her magic in several other cases. She’d deluded his uncle into thinking he had slept with Fenice (when they actually had not). She had created this shifting fog bank to allow them cover. She’d wiped out traces of their scent or hoof prints. Still he wished she could wish up a bridge to some secure castle where his ladies could sit before the fire and warm themselves.

“And so I have, my Lady.” A white haired woman appeared in the fog. Her brown cloak billowed in a bit of breeze. “And I have good news. I have found us sanctuary.” She smiled.

“You have? Where would that be?” he wondered.

“Whitgate. Nemeth’s capital. I have spoken to my Lady. She will guide us there presently. Within the hour, we will have shelter and a fire. You, my lord, will have something to eat. I believe your stomach will agree to such on its own if you keep it waiting any longer?” Thessala informed them. A smirk turned the corner of her mouth up. Mirth prompted the jab at him.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Fetch Sir Boeve. We’ll take care of this,” Fenice instructed. She helped the Dowager to her feet. Then she rolled up the blanket they were both using and returned it to where it had been tied onto the horse’s back. “Can you ride, Milady?”

“We are almost to shelter. I believe I can manage for a few more hours.” The older woman mounted her horse.

He dashed off into the fog. Within six heartbeats’ time, he returned with Boeve. “We’re still clear.”

“Cligés said you found something?” Boeve inquired.

“I have indeed, Good Count. Let us ride. We pass through the mists and will be there,” Thessala noted. She climbed up onto Fenice’s horse sitting behind her former charge. “Now shall we ride?” Her eyes glowed. She pointed at the fire effectively snuffing it out.

“Good to see we keep things clean,” Cligés muttered.

“Less of a trail for them to follow,” Boeve reminded him. “Lead on then, Lady Fenice.”

The runaway Empress spurred her horse ahead through the woods. “Shouldn’t I go back to the trail?”

“We can. Still this is just as quick, my Lady.” Thessala’s eyes glowed again.

Within a heartbeat’s time, the mists congealed into a tunnel of sorts. A section opened allowing _Sol’s_ light to signal the riders toward their destination.

The quintet galloped through disappearing through the doorway and from that place. 

Behind them the mists dissipated leaving nothing in their wake. A sudden breeze whipped through that spot scattering whatever traces remained behind.

And so it was….

 

****

 

[Woods’ Edge—Just Outside of Whitgate]

Fenice pulled up on the reins and looked about. She and Thessala definitely weren’t in their previous place. While the oak trees looked identical, the trail was not. The grass had bits of early green interspersed among the yellowed stalks. The air seemed a bit warmer.

And something sparkled straight ahead. Something very bright almost like a beacon, it seemed.

“Where is this, Thessala?” Fenice asked again.

“Whitgate, my Lady. The goddess has busied herself in a special task. It seems we are here in time to witness its glory,” Thessala informed her. She turned to see Boeve and Cligés galloping into view. “As you can see, my Good Knights, this is Nemeth.”

“I see a trail lined with oak trees,” Boeve observed. “What is that light?”

Thessala shrugged. “I was just telling my Lady that the goddess has something for us to see. It seems she has a special monument. We are in time for a cycle of weddings.”

“Weddings? We cannot intrude on that!” Fenice worried.

“We can ask the King if he is willing to entertain us for an evening, my Dear. Certainly he can afford that for us at least,” the Dowager asserted. “My Son, lead us in there?”

“Aye, Mother. I will lead you in. It is not your home but it will give us a base from which to seek it,” Cligés declared. He spurred his horse on down the path. As he cleared the woods, he beheld the walled city ahead. Above the Upper Town, the castle’s twin spires rose into the sky. _Sol_ reflected off of a spot just in back of it.

“The goddess herself calls us there,” Thessala called from her place on the third horse. “Forward, my lord!”

“Indeed!” Excitement and Relief warmed Cligés’ heart. Anticipation prompted thoughts of warmth, food and festivities. Perhaps they’d find some lead or news related to their family or Sir Boeve’s missing warrior princess. As the drawbridge was down, they galloped straight across it. Slowing their pace so as not to run anyone over in the marketplace, the contingent trod steadily up the cobblestoned path and under the arch.

As they reached the Upper Town’s square, _Malodius_ emerged from his post by the castle’s granite stairs. His nose picked up on something familiar. His tail swayed back and forth relaxing further with each motion. 

Boeve grinned. “ _Malodius!_ Is it you, my Friend?” He dismounted and hustled.

“What manner of beast?” Cligés stiffened. His hand started for his sword.

“Nay! He is but a guard for those within,” Thessala intervened. She got down off of her mistress’ horse and hustled ahead. “His name is _Malodius_. The goddess told me he would be expecting us.” She looked at him. _Good morrow, my Friend. We are here on the triple goddess’ invitation._

“He, Josiane and I have fought on the battlefield as allies,” Boeve patted _Malodius_ on the head. 

_Malodius_ purred. He rubbed up against the exiled Count’s side. Then he looked to Thessala. _So she has told me, Sister. Welcome. Malodius_ glanced at the group. _I have never met your other companions._

_We seek food and shelter. We have traveled for months. King Bors sent us to Camelot. The way north however is blocked by Edgar’s forces. Accordingly the goddess sent us here. I will not have the true Count of Hampton fall into his brother’s hands,_ Thessala explained.

_Indeed. Malodius_ approached the group. _There is one who will be overjoyed to see him._

“We may dismount.” Thessala went to help the Dowager down off of her horse.

“How would that be?” Cligés helped Fenice down from her horse. Seeing their greeter turn and rush up the stairs, he narrowed his eyes. “Now what?”

_Malodius_ whacked his paw softly across the wooden portal three times to get attention.

Galahad opened the door. “Aye?” He saw _Malodius_ step aside and the refugees awaiting them. “Good morning, Friends! What brings you to Whitgate?”

“We come seeking shelter and perhaps a meal, my Good Knight. I am Sir Boeve of Hampton. And you are?”

“Sir Galahad of Nemeth.” Galahad clasped hands with the other knight. Suspicion needled him as the other’s attributes matched a description he’d picked up from somewhere. “And who are your companions?”

“Ah. Forgive me. These are my companions come from the other end of the great inland sea. My fellow knight is Sir Cligés. The lady beside him is his intended, the Lady Fenice. And the other woman is the Dowager Empress Soredamors,” Boeve introduced.

_Malodius_ looked at the Dowager. His nose sniffed again. He padded over to Soredamors gently. He picked up on her aura recalling well the crimson handkerchief. Respect prompted an immediate bow before her.

“What? Will it…he attack? I….” Soredamors stiffened. Fear and Anxiety shook her.

“Soredamors?” Galahad stared at her. “Have you a brother?”

“Aye. I did. I do not know if he still lives though. We were separated when we were young,” Soredamors affirmed.

“In Cawdor. I’ve heard the tale. I am glad to see you alive and with goodly companions,” Galahad clarified. He clapped his hands.

Two younger knights rushed to him.

“Sir Ricard and Sir Bohemond, please see to their horses? Have the stable hands put them in the best available stalls for our guests,” Galahad instructed.

“Aye.” The knights without further ado led the four horses away from there and toward the waiting stables.

“They will have the household staff bring your possessions into the castle.” Galahad motioned them onward. 

“Wait! You’ve…heard?” Soredamors hesitated. 

“Of here and in Egypt. Aye,” Galahad clarified. “Come! All will be explained soon. Lord Merlin, our soon to be Prince, is showing something to the court. We will find them in the courtyard.”

_Malodius_ raised his head. _Princess Mithian?_

_Aye, Malodius? What is it?_ Mithian wondered.

_We have guests. Sir Galahad brings them to you, Malodius_ noted. _Do not have Merlin stop what he’s doing. They will understand. Are Princess Josiane and Sir Gawain with you?_

_Thank you, Good Friend. We shall await them. And yes they are. I shall see why you ask when they arrive,_ she concluded before going back to the show at hand.

_Malodius_ resumed his watch again. His eyes followed the group’s progress into the castle. 

Fortune, it seemed, had a cornucopia of surprises on that day for them…..


	6. Reasons to Celebrate and Responses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reactions to the dome and then the refugees' arrival clash.

Chapter 5 [Courtyard—A Quarter Turn of the Hourglass Earlier]

Merlin paced about the cobbled path. Anxiety and Tension ate at him. Insecurity burned at his mind. He bit his lip. Worry pounded at him. Looking around at the floral panorama all around himself, his breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded faster. His mouth and throat parched more than the great desert on Africa’s northern coast.

Josiane sighed. “Merlin, please! You have no reason to feel this way! Take pride in yourself.”

“I just want Princess Mithian to enjoy it. Until she sees it, well….” He shrugged anxiously.

“Honestly! I still wonder what that muttonheaded excuse for a King did to you in Camelot.” She shook her head. Disgust pushed another curse from her lips in her native tongue. “Master Peter will return presently.” She admired the glittering crystal and metal dome overhead. She basked in _Sol’s_ enhanced light in that place. Her eyes took in the beauty before them. “With your goddess’ direction, we have a masterpiece for the court’s pleasure.”

He nodded. “I should believe. I’m worried something will happen….” 

_I’m sure Father and I will like what you’ve prepared, my Prince. We are almost there,_ Mithian assured him.

He exhaled and flexed his hands. Sweat dampened his hands. He walked toward the passage’s entrance and peered into it.

“Merlin? What’s wrong? Master Peter rushed into the throne chamber. He said there was something urgent.” Rodor hustled toward him. He inspected his soon to be son-in-law. He discerned Anxiety’s signs clearly there. “Has some catastrophe befallen us?”

“Nay, Sire. Quite the opposite. It’s a surprise for Princess Mithian.” Merlin walked toward his _fiancée_. “If she’ll close her eyes and not peek.”

“What?” Mithian raised an eyebrow. “Merlin, you’re up to something.”

“Could be. I want it to be a surprise though. Eyes closed. I could have the King make it a royal order,” Merlin suggested.

Mithian narrowed her eyes. She glanced toward her father who nodded. “Fine.”

_No peeking through me either. I want this to be a surprise,_ Merlin added.

_Fine._ Mithian stewed. She wanted to walk in and see what Mischief had guided him toward.

“I trust this will be worth the suspense,” Rodor presumed. 

“It’d better be,” Mithian added. She’d always hated waiting for surprises. This one was no exception.

Her mood didn’t help Merlin’s resolve any. He set his jaw and cleared his throat. “This way then.” He led them into the new garden area. “All right. Open your eyes. Hope you like it.”

“Like it…? I told you. I….” Mithian stopped her response. Wonder and Amazement stunned her. Her jaw slackened. Her eyes widened. She beheld her favorite flowers already in Midsummer’s form with a few new additions to intrigue her. Her eyes drifted up to the massive new dome overhead. “By the goddess, Merlin, how…..?”

“Aye. She guided our efforts, Friends.” Josiane joined them. 

“Your efforts?” Rodor admired the scene. “Astounding! What manner of structure is this? I have never seen one like it.”

“It is called a dome, King Rodor. We have the first one in this part of the world. This is a true treasure. Merlin wanted us to enjoy it. Witness what magic can do,” Josiane explained.

“Indeed so! We can have something positive to display in that regard. I’ve heard of the negativity toward magic and its usage to suit me.” Rodor admired.

“It is for everyone. Still it has one primary thing.” Merlin bowed before his Princess Fair. “I hope you like your wedding present. I know it’s a little early but….”

“Like it? How could I not? Oh, Merlin!” Mithian’s eyes teared up. She pulled him to his feet. “This is amazing, my Prince.”

“I love you.” Merlin embraced her. “I appreciate everything.”

“As I do from you.” Mithian touched foreheads with him. “You worry about this? As if I wouldn’t like it?”

“I want it to be perfect for you,” Merlin admitted. “And your father.”

Rodor shook his head. “You both combined with the triple goddess to create the Eighth Wonder of the World and you worry about perfection? Truly, Merlin, your humility knows no bounds. This, my Boy, is astounding!” He turned to Josiane. “We owe you thanks as well. Thank you for assisting Merlin in this endeavor.”

“Service to others makes the world turn, Good King,” Josiane quipped. She smiled and nodded to him. “If it offers Merlin some confidence then all the better.”

Rodor nodded. “Mithian’s mother would have loved this, Merlin.” He patted Merlin on the shoulder. “I can’t say well done enough.”

Mithian’s eyes sparkled into her Intended’s. _Just wait, my Prince._

_I want some mistletoe to show up at some point,_ Merlin requested.

Mithian coughed. _Do you now? You can’t create any here?_

_That’s your department. I’m just the garden help. You do the mistletoe *so well*,_ Merlin snarked.

Mithian raised an eyebrow. _Just the garden help you say. Oh I’ll find some mistletoe. And just wait. Our wedding night will be a night to remember, my Prince._ She embraced him again. _Thank you for our treasure._

_Anything for you, Mithian,_ Merlin assured her.

_Amor_ blushed her cheeks rosy red. _And for you._

_Malodius_ interjected, _Princess Mithian?_

_Aye, Malodius? What is it?_ Mithian wondered.

_We have guests. Sir Galahad brings them to you, Malodius_ noted. _Do not have Merlin stop what he’s doing. They will understand. Is Sir Gawain with you?_

_Thank you, Good Friend. We shall await them._ She looked about to see the stunned knight, Britomart and Hunith admiring the handiwork. _And yes he is. I shall see why you ask when they arrive,_ she concluded. 

“How are these flowers blooming at this time of year? And the roof? I…Merlin, I love it but is this safe?” Hunith worried.

“I assure you, Lady Hunith. I appreciate feats such as this one. How can we not?” Rodor assured her. “In fact, it will serve as a wondrous example of what can be done without it.”

“Bloody straight.” Gawain shook his head. He simply stared at the floral display. Moreover, like the others, words failed to describe his reaction to the crystal dome overhead. “They’ll never believe this! Merlin, it’s about time. Nice!” He nodded.

“Thank Princess Josiane and the triple goddess too. It was a group effort,” Merlin deflected in part.

“Merlin, it was your idea and dream. We had the means to help you as you do for us,” Josiane reminded him (again). 

“My wedding present.” Mithian positively beamed. Her eyes sparkled. A warm hue seemed to draw an outline around her. She felt so light that she could float into the air. “If Merlin will please stop doubting himself, I’d truly enjoy it.”

Gawain coughed. “Good luck on that. Snow will fly in mid-August first.”

“He’s had reason, Sir Gawain,” Hunith countered. She smiled. “Merlin’s never had a safe place to use his magic. We’ve had to hide who he is all of this time.” She embraced her son. “At last you’re safe, my Special Boy.”

“We’re safe, Mother. This is your home too,” Merlin affirmed. He hugged her tightly back.

At that moment, Galahad cleared his throat. “Sire, Princess, we have our guests and….” His eyes went wide. “By the goddess! How?” 

“Magic would be the word, Galahad,” Gawain told him. “Can’t top this. Can we?”

“I would suppose not. This….this…is beyond words. I am sure our guests will appreciate. Gawain, there is one more wonder. Brace yourself,” Galahad assessed.

“And something can top this? Galahad, you really need to get a grip. Like there’s something more? I….” Gawain turned toward the passage. His eyes took in the visitors. As they did so, they stopped upon Soredamors. His eyes went wide. Words once more failed him. Wit slammed into a proverbial wall. His mind blanked out his friends’ achievement. His heart turned back toward its long lost part. Joy’s tears watered in his eyes.

Miracles had indeed just surpassed their brethren.

“Sir Gawain? What is it?” Britomart turned away from the wonders before them. Concern gripped her. She saw her _fiancé_ hustling off toward the newcomers.

“Sis?” Gawain implored. “Is it? I….”

“Gawain, by the goddess. I….They threatened…I…” Soredamors pulled him into a tight embrace. “Of everything I thought was lost, I am so relieved!”

“Yeah I’m here. You aren’t leaving again.” Gawain trembled. Tears streaked his cheeks. He kissed her cheeks. “And speaking of supposed losses, there’s someone else you need to see.” He grinned. “She’s waiting for you.”

“Gawain, what are you talking about? Who’s this ‘she’?” Soredamors looked at her brother. “This isn’t the time for one of your jokes!”

“Sorie, just look. She’s standing right behind me,” Gawain insisted. “I wouldn’t joke about this either. Just look. Trust me.” Expectation urged her forward with a raised eyebrow.

His sister followed his lead. Her eyes glided over the stones and through the gauntlet of plants….

…that is until they spied she who’d been lost and feared dead….

“Josiane?” Soredamors released him. She pushed ahead. For the second time in just that brief exchange, Time stopped its advance. “Is it…? I…”

“It’s me, Mama!” The exiled Princess ran to the elder woman. She threw her arms around Soredamors. “I thought you were dead. Uncle Ahmed told me you’d been taken by the Greeks. I didn’t believe what he said about you. Everything happened so quickly. Father was killed. Uncle got me out the back door. We saw the city burning as we escaped.” She ran her hands across her mother’s cheeks. Her eyes watered.

“Oh my baby! There was no time. They told me you were dead! I can’t tell you how much this means!” Soredamors insisted. She held her daughter closely against her. “And now we’re together again.” Tears sparkled in her eyes as well. “Now I have both of my children.”

“Both?” Josiane narrowed her eyes. “Mama, what?”

“You have a brother. Josiane, meet….

“JOSIANE!” Boeve called. His breathing picked up. His heart skipped a beat and then two. Disbelief flooded his brain. All of the lost years. All of the missed time. Everything seemed to fall away. _Amor_ washed away Longing and Strife. It renewed his strength. He shoved by Cligés and rushed forward.

Josiane looked toward the remaining two men. “BOEVE! Boeve! Mama, forgive me! I….” She gasped. Fortitude’s usual grace failed her. She staggered ahead. “Edgar …Edgar claimed you were dead.” Tears ran harder and faster down her cheeks. She trembled. She crossed the remaining three steps and just about tackled him. She mashed her lips onto his. 

In that span, their hearts beat in unison. Desire bonded. Emotions flowed together. 

Boeve surfaced first for air. His eyes peered deeply into hers. “The goddess granted my dearest wish. She kept you safe. She protected you. She brought you back to me.”

“And you to me, my Love.” Josiane smiled. Her breath caught in her throat. She squeezed his hands in hers. “I never want to be apart again. Not ever.”

“Nor I, you,” Boeve confirmed. He held her close to himself. His lips brushed still more of _Amor’s_ strokes across her forehead. 

“She’s the warrior philosopher?” Cligés stiffened. Indignation burned inside of himself. He bit back a response. He bowed his head.

Boeve overheard the other knight. He exhaled. “We can continue later. Greet Sir Cligés. He deserves that.”

Josiane nodded. “Aye.” She rubbed his arm. “We will speak more later though. Thank you for grounding me, my Good Knight.”

“Always.” Boeve motioned toward his comrade. “He’s waiting. Go and be his sister.”

She cleared her throat. Myriad emotions and feelings surged and clashed inside of herself. Hate’s fire burned down her spine. She trembled. “Pardon me.” She kneeled and then placed her head to the stones. “Master, please fill me with your grace. Please let the beauty of this place fill me. Please help me to greet Cligés. I know he’s not his father. But…” Her eyes burned. “I still see that horrible day in my mind….”

“WHAT? What about my father?” Cligés snapped at her.

“She’s praying for strength. She’s asking to overcome the past,” Fenice realized. 

“She’s asking? Asking for what? And to what god? I know….” Cligés insisted.

Rodor stepped up. “Sir Knight, I do not know what family grievances lie between her and you. That is for you both to deal with. Still allow her the space to pray and work through her issues in her own way. That, as King of this place, I can tell you.”

“With due respect, Your Majesty, what does she know? She talks of some crime? My father freed Mother from her slavery. Uncle Gawain, tell the Princess about that,” Cligés insisted.

“That was Meleagant not her Dad!” Gawain got right in his nephew’s face. “And that will be dealt with, Kid. Not by her, you or your Mom. Got it? That’s my deal. MINE!” He clenched his fists. That’s another one I owe you, Big Red! 

Cligés nodded. “Then deal with it.” He bowed to his uncle and then to Rodor. Then he turned and walked off as best as he could under the circumstances. Tears welled up in his eyes. Anger and Rejection stung his heart. He disappeared down the hall.

Josiane finished her prayer. She stood. “I’m sorry. I should’ve kept that between my god and me. It wasn’t my intention to stir up issues with Cligés. This wasn’t the time.” She stepped on to her carpet and flew into the passage and toward her own chamber.

Rodor turned to Merlin. “Merlin, this shouldn’t affect your day. It….” 

Merlin composed himself. He cleared his throat. “Sire, I know I’m new to this. I’d like to say something. It’s a compliment.”

Rodor exchanged looks with Mithian. Getting a nod, he relented, “I would be interested to hear your perspective, Merlin.”

Merlin sucked in a couple of deep breaths. Confidence’s momentary surge had worn off. He gulped. He saw everyone waiting for his next words. “Sire, I wanted to compliment you on three things. You took a stand for spiritual tolerance. Look at this! We have this great example of the goddess’ handiwork and the Old Religion. I can use magic. Princess Josiane can pray openly. Cligés can pray as he wants. Then you’re not forcing a solution on them. You’re letting them work it out. Yet you also kept control of the situation.” He bowed again.

Rodor considered Merlin’s insights. “So you see a silver lining in this, Merlin?”

“Respect has its demands. Tolerance has its expectations. Perspective drives our views of the world,” Merlin continued on. “That’s something I heard in Camelot. King Uther rolled his eyes and dismissed the speaker. I know I’m not officially a Prince but….”

Mithian glared. Her eyes narrowed at him. _Merlin, STOP! You’re doing fine. Stop doubting yourself!_

Merlin shuddered. He bowed his head.

“Sounds princely to me. Sure is a lot smarter than what we’d hear at Camelot,” Gawain declared.

“While I don’t care for the tone toward your former court, Sir Gawain, I agree with the meat of it.” Rodor squinted briefly at the recent recruit. Then he turned to Merlin. “You say you’re not officially a Prince. You haven’t been crowned yet. Still you’re already speaking like one. Those are fine distinctions in terms of spiritual tolerance and familial arbitration. You aren’t letting the disruption spoil the day. Perhaps you might have been tempted to step in or use your magic to solve it. Still you did not. I have much to teach you. You have much to learn. Still I am impressed by how you’re handling this. Thank you.” He nodded. 

Merlin smiled. Relief lifted his spirits. He looked around at the garden. His eye caught the distinct flowers and plants working together to form the whole symbiosis. _I wonder if we can be like this? Can we do it without suppressing other views?_

_We can certainly aspire to that, my Prince,_ Mithian assured him. She squeezed his hand. _You see? Father really appreciated what you said. I am so proud of it! Take pride in that…even if you still have some rough edges to work out._

Merlin shrugged understanding her (semi-serious) little joke for him. He returned it with a little smile of his own. Then he motioned the others to follow him around as he talked about the different plants. Even as he did so, his mind remained with his friends in their situations. Still he kept the balance. 

In as much as he was in multiple places at once, the show did have to go on…or so it seemed…..


	7. Lecture to Thessala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The triple goddess lectures Thessala about things.

Chapter 6 [Somewhere Else—A Turn of the Hourglass Later]

The triple goddess frowned. Her hair bristled. Anger curled her mouth into a deep frown. Frustration boiled up inside of herself. _Miracles are created. Beauty wrought from dreams and collaboration. Still Prejudice does conspire against all. Ruby fire blazed in her eyes. They are but guests in this land. I allow them Courtesy’s grace. Yet they still bungle it with their actions._ She peered into the mists. There she saw Merlin salvage the day. _What is this? Emrys rises akin to Phoenix. It seems Disaster’s cloak does bear silver and golden trim after all._ She allowed herself a wan smile. Perhaps this day isn’t a complete disaster after all.

“Milady?” Freya asked. She curtseyed. “Sister Thessala is with me as you requested.”

_So she is. Thank you, Child. That will be all. I shall speak with her._ The goddess dispelled the viewing point with a curt wave of her hand. She collected her emotions. Then she watched the aged woman limp into the chamber. She descended from that platform toward the polished marble below. Her eyes noted Contrition’s burden upon the priestess’ brow. Confusion staggered her pace.

_My Daughter, you are welcome._

“Lady.” Thessala bowed to the mistress. “Forgive me for not coming sooner. The Empress and her company had to be dealt with. I also needed to calm the Empress and Dowager.”

_Aye. Calming. That is one way to put it._ The goddess paced a bit. Calming like a forest fire being dampened by a spit of rain, I think. 

“Pardon, Milady. I had no idea that Empress Soredamors’ daughter would be there. If I did, I would have found reason to keep the Prince from there,” Thessala apologized.

_None of us knew who would accompany the event in question. I underestimated the rift between the Prince and Princess. Vengeance burns brightly in them both. Arthur Pendragon’s separation should have been enough to render peace. It seems there is more._ The goddess frowned. _The Dowager’s enslavement and then capture brought rival claims. Each child feels the other robbed them. They should move in the direction of healing. Meantime Soredamors should speak to both children. Meleagant of Cawdor is the real adversary not the two siblings._

“The Saracen Princess did try….” Thessala started.

_Josiane of Alexandria is who she is. The goddess shook her head. I wish she had said her prayer somewhere else. At least she implored the Greater Good for peace. She wishes help for her brother and strength to deal with her own issues. The siblings’ bond will be essential in the coming time. Both created their own issues to themselves and the Greater Good. Their loves will intervene. Whatever the past is, both sires are gone. The chaos is about upon them once more. Meleagant of Cawdor will be upon them once more._

“Meleagant? I do not know.” Thessala bowed again. 

_The tyrant who wrecked chaos on Soredamors and Gawain still has ambition. He sold your Dowager Empress into bondage to the dark skinned easterners. He set the process in motion. His allies still press their agenda upon our fragile alliance. Hope burns brightly from Britannia. It will extend toward the mainland across the seas. Still those ruled by Ambition’s will seek to crush those plans. I am grateful that those in Nemeth rise to the challenge. Seek to foster that. I will expect more soon. That is all,_ the goddess concluded.

“We will see what we can do.” Thessala bowed once more. “Thank you, Lady.” She backed away before turning and disappearing again.

“The children could bring about war on their own,” Nimue supposed.

_Perhaps. Emrys gave Peace its chance. Pray it doesn’t flounder on its own. I must ponder another plan. The goddess ascended the platform to see more insights._

It seemed that Strife would have more answers.


	8. Siblings Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gawain and Soredamors speak about the situation with Josiane and Cliges.

Chapter 7   
[Gawain’s Chamber] 

Gawain paced about the varnished floor on that day. He clenched his fists over the previous situation. Disbelief burned in his gut. He ground his teeth. His friends’ marvelous feat left him along with everyone else stunned. His sister’s sudden appearance and subsequent reuniting with him showered still more joy upon everyone. Given how Celebration had lifted his spirits from Despair’s depths, he was about ready to put the energy toward the upcoming wedding and moving ahead beyond the Camelot stuff.

Then the family feud disrupted everything. Much as his bottled up pain had exploded back at Camelot, his nephew’s spleen tainted the affair. His niece had tried to contain her own feelings with mixed results. Both tried to remain respectful toward Rodor. (In that regard, they did far better than he had with Arthur.) _He got Josiane’s anger especially with her mother being taken from her. But what was the deal with Cligés? It’s not like he lost anything. He’s got that girl, Fenice. He was with his Mom and Dad. Whatever._

Still the Red Knight’s stench lingered over the whole deal. Meleagant just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“Blast that bloody….!” He brought his fist down on the table shaking the entire chamber in the process.

Rage reddened his face. His lip curled upon itself. He shook his head knowing the ensuing tantrum wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Responsibility beckoned him toward the door. The fume fest could wait. 

Right now, everyone else needed him.

 

****

[Soredamors’ Chamber—A Sixth of a Turn of the Hourglass Later]

Down the other end of the hall, Soredamors brooded over Past’s burden. Frustration burned over her children’s rivalry and rage toward each other. Tears streaked her face. After so long, her brother and daughter proved a wonderful frosting to a shelter and provisioned cake of sorts. Her prayers had been answered it seemed.

Then the whole deal went to Hell.

_I know they have different fathers. It’s not like I really had a choice._ She sighed. Her mind weighed on the events surrounding the siege in Alexandria years before. _Bad enough Alexander slew Hermin. He would’ve done worse to Josiane. Is it wrong that I surrendered? I was Sultana but wasn’t I a mother first? If only Alexander could have tolerated her presence._ She shook her head. _At least Hermin’s brother took care of her._

A pounding came from the door.

_Now who?_ She rubbed her forehead to ease Pain’s hold there. “Aye?”

“Hey, Sis! Got a bit?” Gawain supposed. He attempted to set an upbeat tone to his query.

She coughed. She anticipated that he’d be around at some point. _He doesn’t give up on anything. I should be grateful for small favors._ She unlatched the door and pulled it open. “Gawain, I’m glad you’re here. Come in.” She embraced him. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what? Sorie, what did you do?” Confusion raised an eyebrow. He hugged her tightly. “You didn’t know. Hey. I’m glad you’re here. I can’t tell you how much I missed you. I thought you were dead. Okay? First Josie shows up. Then you and the others.”

“Thank you, Gawain. I guess I have to save people. Don’t I?” She shook her head. 

“That was your problem. You didn’t have to save me, Sorie. I kept Mom and me alive for a while at least. We could’ve planned. We….” he argued. Seeing her put her hand up and shake her head. 

“Those thugs were going to kill you. Bad enough Father was dead. I went with them so you and Mother would have a chance. They took everything from me…even my favorite handkerchief. That was our last thing with the family crest on it. I wish I could see it. It was the last thing Papa gave me before he went off to war that last time,” she insisted.

“Josie has it. One of Big Red’s buddies returned it last week. All heart I’ve got to tell you. Hope it’s all right that I let her hang onto it,” he told her.

“Of course!” Seeing a bit of a smile pop up on his face, she looked intently at him. “What?”

“Huh?” He returned the look with one of his own. 

“Your face lit up. It’s been decades but I remember. You have that look. It’s the one when you brought home your first stag with Papa. What is it?” she insisted.

“Josie’s quite a girl, Sorie.” Pride beamed across his face. “She’s smart and kind. She really kicks arse in a fight. Try telling her not to fight. Sppt! Yeah right. Look what she did with that roof thing downstairs….”

“The dome? How could she do that?” She mulled over that thought. Then she nodded. “She inherited Ahmed’s talent. He had elemental talents and sorcery. She was a resilient little girl. Several times she’d blunder into things. I’d yell at the harem servants to watch her.” She giggled. 

“Didn’t matter. She’d keep going. Right?” he supposed.

“She took after you in that way. Instinct for trouble.” Warmth shone in her eyes despite the mini-lecture. “Josiane never stopped figuring things out. I just wish Alex hadn’t threatened her. I….”

“Maybe you might want to let her know?” He motioned toward the door. “Sis, Josie just needs her Mom. The other kid needs his arse kicked in.”

“Alexander and the Patriarch filled Cligés’ head with that hate, Gawain,” she pointed out. “What was it that Prince Merlin said? How Experience, Perspective and Investment determine actions and attitudes?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Wait until you get to know him better, Sorie. Merlin’s a great guy. Talk about someone with a lot of layers.”

“He seems it. He doesn’t look like much at first. I’ve never seen a noble with rough hands and posture. He doesn’t seem comfortable in his own skin. Sorry but you know….” she observed.

He snorted. “Merlin’s not comfortable unless he’s serving everyone else. He’s not used to the whole Prince deal or being here.”

“Not used…? What?” She narrowed her eyes. “He isn’t noble?”

“We didn’t know until recently. He was King Arthur’s chief servant for like years and years in Camelot. He ran the household and used to take crap from Arthur.” He coughed. “He was a peasant in Ealdor. I guess his Mom, Hunith, sent him to Camelot to protect him. Some protection. Uther and then Arthur. What a joke.” He rolled his eyes.

“Merlin’s a servant.” Getting a defensive stare from her brother, she thought that point over. “So how did he?”

“He’s like Josie. Merlin doesn’t back down from a fight. He saved King Arthur more time than the Prat’ll admit. He really takes his work seriously. And being loyal? Merlin takes that to a whole different level. As far as being here…” Gawain shrugged. “He and Mith hit it off.”

“Mith? You mean that Princess? What would she see in a servant?” she wondered. 

“At first, they couldn’t stand each other. Then he decided to bring her a meal late one night. I’d just brought her maid back to the castle so I was there. I found Merlin with a plate of really good stuff. He made an impression on that Princess. Then he found her missing necklace and rode halfway across Britannia to return it to her. That really opened her eyes.”

“I suppose it would! So he proved himself by the ancient laws then?” she deduced.

“Yeah he did. He never should’ve had to but he did. Arthur should have knighted him with the rest of us. And then he was already a noble.” Gawain coughed. “Merlin had a whole suit of armor and a sword waiting for him from his father downstairs. So yeah we’re here. Merlin and Mith are getting married next week. I’m still figuring things out too.”

“You mean with that female knight? What’s her name? Britomart? She’s fiery that one. Mother would approve,” she assessed.

“Yeah Mama would.” He shook his head. “Brit rides me like Mama did. She nags, nags, nags, picks on me and tells me to keep my head on straight. She’s like Josie too. You should see her fight, Sorie. Wow.”

“I’ve seen Amazons in battle. I imagine she’s like them,” she supposed.

“Brit literally stormed the walls of Camelot to help me. Just don’t tell her I told you that.” He rolled his eyes. His cheeks blushed. “She’d never let me live that down.”

“She’d never, eh?” She smirked. “I’d never thought I’d see the day! You care about her!”

“Sorie.” He sighed.

“As I live and breathe!” She regarded him. She knew the signs well from the other men around herself. “You love her.”

“We’re engaged.” He grimaced. “So much for life now.”

“What? Gawain, stop! Why are you complaining? She’ll be good for you!” she disagreed. “Anyone who can put up with your stinky feet and dirty socks deserves that peerage.” She coughed.

“You think so?”

She grinned. “I know so. I definitely need to get to know her. She needs all of the dirt on you.”

“Don’t you even…! Sorie!” he complained.

“Some things, Brother, are for your own good. And here I thought I wouldn’t get to see you with a good woman to keep your arse in line.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Maybe you can show me where Josiane’s chamber is? She left so quickly before.”

“Yeah.” Opportunity offered the chance for him to bury that potential blackmail for that day at least. “Come on.” He led her out the door and down the passage.


	9. Gawain's Reassurances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josiane mulls over what happened. Gawain and Soredamors speak to her.

Chapter 8 [Josiane’s Chamber]

Josiane sat at the polished oaken desk. He tapped her fingers across its gleaming surface. Her eyes took in the spacious chamber. Not for the first time or the last more than likely, she wondered how she deserved such hospitality or patience from her friends. _They give me so much. I try to help and wreck everything. She bowed her head. Merlin deserved better. He wanted everything to be perfect for Princess Mithian! He…_

A sharp knocking came from the door.

She bit her lip. _Give me strength._ She glanced toward the ceiling. Then she made herself stride toward the door and open it to find her mother and uncle waiting. “Mama! Uncle Gawain! Pardon me! I was going to see you later. Please come in.” She ushered them both inside. 

“I’m glad. I thought you hated me for what happened,” Soredamors supposed.

“What? NO! Mama, why would you say that? I’ve missed you!” Josiane nearly crushed her mother in a hug worthy of the biggest snake. “I’ve been alone. Now that I’ve been blessed with all of this, Uncle, you and Boeve again, I just want you all here. Just don’t leave!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Soredamors vowed. “We’re a family again at last! I won’t let you go.” She shot him a look. “That goes for you too.”

“I’m the big brother. I say that to you,” he rebutted. “Both of you.”

“Maybe we should ask Britomart about that?” Soredamors asked.

Josiane rolled her eyes. “Mama, they’ll argue all night.” She shook her head. “She likes being called Aunt by the way.”

“She would. Don’t start,” he complained. “I mean it.” He ground his teeth. 

“As I said before, she’s good for you. Mama would definitely approve,” Soredamors reminded him not giving him any kind of break in that regard. “And don’t think I’m just getting on your Uncle, Josiane. You’re as bad as he is. You do know that?”

“As bad…? What?” Josiane narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like having the tables turned on her for that matter.

“She means that really muscular handsome Count. What’s his name? Oh yeah. Boeve. The guy you can’t stop thinking about, talking about, whatever.” Satisfaction and Mischief sparkled in his eyes. His smirk screamed ‘gotcha’ back at her. “You’re limed too, Josie.”

“For a long while now, Uncle. I have to make sure he’s safe,” Josiane admitted. Anxiety unsteadied her. “His brother wants him dead and….”

“Brother?” Soredamors turned back to him.

“She’s talking about Edgar. Real piece of work.” He frowned. “He tried to have her killed back in Camelot. He was going to kidnap Brit and her and sell them.”

“What?” Soredamors gasped.

“Uncle, don’t tell her that!” Josiane protested.

“Hey! I had it under control. Your Aunt pushed her luck. I put my foot down,” he pointed out.

“Right in their noses from what I hear.” Josiane smirked at her mother. Then she motioned toward his feet. “He does cultivate quite the aroma.” She batted her hand in front of her face.

“Excuse me? Hey! I use what I have at my disposal! We were outnumbered. Brit and I dealt with it. Can’t rely on Arthur. Whatever!” He exhaled. “You’re safe. So’s Brit. That creep wants your guy out of the way, Josie. We all need to watch out. He’s in with Big Red.”

“Big Red?” Soredamors asked.

“He’s means Meleagant of Cawdor, Mama. That brute never stops making trouble.” Josiane bowed her head. “Still we have a bigger problem. I don’t want to bring this up right now but…”

“Cligés. Josiane, I tried to tell you. I was in the process of introducing you both. Then you saw Sir Boeve and rushed to him. Sir Boeve pushed him out of the way to get to you. Given his feelings already, it wasn’t the best thing for either of you to do to him,” Soredamors insisted.

“What I…?” Josiane snickered. Incredulity stiffened her. “Mama, his father kidnapped you! He stabbed Father in the back! He tried to kill me! And now my brother’s mad because I’m here? He had you, Mama! I had nobody! That murderer forced himself on you. That kid is mad at me? Aye! He’s so great! I ran from your husband’s men! You know a man named Alys?”

“Aye. And…” Soredamors stared at her daughter. “Nay! Alexander promised you’d be left alone! He…” Her jaw dropped. Her eyes went wide. 

“Alys and I have crossed blades more than once. He wants me dead as well. So does his puppet, Mustafa, back in Egypt!” Josiane crossed her arms over her chest. “But then that snake doesn’t keep his deals. Does he?”

“What is she talking about, Sis?” Gawain watched them carefully. He could feel Tension’s intensity escalating like a warm front hitting against an Arctic air mass. Emotion’s storm was building in that place.

“Nay Alys doesn’t. Josiane, if I had looked for you, Alexander told me he’d have hunted you down. He wanted me to spend time with Cligés. I hated that! Not spending time with your brother. I mean…not having you two together.” Soredamors shook her head. “Alys would’ve taken it upon himself to do that. He doesn’t care what he does. That’s why we’re here and not in Constantinople.”

“Are you in trouble? Something’s up. I know when you flush up like that,” he insisted. 

Soredamors shot him a dirty look. “Alys had a deal with Alexander too, Gawain. When he took the throne, Alys wasn’t supposed to marry or try to have an heir. Cligés and Fenice had met a half of a year earlier in her homeland. He fought there to help her father. They fell in love. Then, Alys negotiated with her father, the Holy Roman Emperor, and double crossed Cligés. Before the marriage could be consummated, Cligés, Fenice and I fled. Alys’ men caught up with us at Orvieto.” She smiled. “That’s when Sir Boeve rode up. He and Cligés dealt with them. We reached King Bors’ court. King Bors tried to get us to Camelot but the roads were blocked. That man, Edgar, ambushed us in Southampton. We just managed to get away.”

“Bors should’ve sent word. We would’ve met you there, Sis. So Cligés and his girl are hunted now too? He’d best get over the burr in his saddle and deal with Josie. We all need each other. The Big Red Bullocks doesn’t need help like that.” He ran his hands through his hair. 

“Gawain,” his sister chided.

“Mama, Uncle’s right. As much as it shouldn’t have happened that way, he is my brother. That’s why I was praying in the garden. You may have had to be with them. You may have loved his father. I don’t know. But I have to differentiate between those two so-called “Emperors” and Cligés! They killed my father! They tried to kill Boeve and me on several occasions! They came between us! And now they want to kill my brother and his beloved?” Josiane clenched her fist. “Issues or not, Cligés and I need each other right now. After that we’ll see. Come. He and I are going to talk. I want witnesses.”

“Uh okay,” Gawain relented. He motioned his sister from the chamber before shutting the door. “Hope we can find them.”

“Sarah will know. Let’s find her,” Josiane presumed. She led them down the passage in search of her recalcitrant sibling.

_Just make sure they don’t kill each other first!_ Soredamors murmured a prayer to herself. 

Last thing they wanted was Caina vs. Abel at that point…..


	10. More Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boeve muses about things. Cliges gets an earful from Boeve and Merlin. Then he and Josiane work through their issues....

Chapter 9 [Melee Practice Area]

Even as Resolution worked its wonders for his companions, Boeve brooded in the sparring area. Anger and Indignation propelled his blade in a blur through the air. Metallic thuds struck at a padded post. His eyes narrowed. He sulked. Honor demanded redress. _I wait years to see my Josiane again. And then her brother has to start in on her?_ He tensed while hearing a branch snap to his left. 

Off to the side, several pages quivered. On Galahad’s orders, they had shields and stood ready to serve as battering dummies so to speak. None of them really wanted to end up in the Physicians’ Chambers to be honest. 

_They have issues with each other. I understand that. Still, after what that bastard, Alys, did to us, Josiane deserves the same consideration she was trying to give to Cligés! They are of the same blood. It wasn’t their mother’s fault. Like she really had a choice?_ He knew the story of course. _Each has a perspective. Still to accuse her like that?_ He bowed his head. 

“Sometimes it isn’t as easy as it seems to keep everyone happy. I try.”

Boeve glanced over his left shoulder. He immediately bowed. “Prince Merlin! I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“I’m close but please don’t bow. Not yet. Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m still a servant or a noble. I guess I can be a friend. Maybe that will work?” Merlin supposed. “Just don’t swing the sword at me. You were beating up on that pretty hard.” He held a goblet of water out to the other man.

Boeve nodded and sheathed his blade. “You never change, Your Highness.” He bowed and then accepted the goblet. “Even after you’re made a nobleman, marry the worthy Princess Mithian and become Crown Prince, you still wait on people.” He saluted his host. “You are a worthy friend indeed.”

“I wish I was worthy of that. I’ll keep trying though,” Merlin deflected. He squirmed in discomfort. 

“You do that. If everyone would try half as hard as you, this would be Paradise on Earth.” Boeve complimented. He savored the cold refreshment whetting Thirst’s arid hold on his mouth and throat. “As much as with Cligés, his father and uncle, they should follow your example.” He sniffed.

Merlin shrugged. Humility and Unworthiness deflected that praise from him as well. “I make plenty of mistakes. I’ve also learned a lot from everyone. Sadly I have to hide a great deal too. I couldn’t have my father’s mantle before now. Your brother’s men harassed Josiane in Camelot. We, her friends, set an example when the other nobles and members of the court did not. They tried to take all but a sack cloth from her. We didn’t let it happen.”

Boeve set the goblet down hard. “Edgar will not stop. He calls me a traitor. He takes my land. And now he targets my heart.” He sniffed. “How do you do it, Merlin? How do you fight for Princess Mithian’s love?”

“She fights for me. She makes me believe I’m worthy. If I think otherwise, she’ll let me know about it,” Merlin praised his fiancée.

_As I will right now, my Prince,_ Mithian interjected right on cue.

“You stood up to your former King,” Boeve reminded him.

“I wish I hadn’t had to. King Arthur played the double standard. I met the standards. I should have had the rank. Soon though it’ll all be behind us.” Merlin clasped his guest’s hand. “I can’t wait for next week. Maybe you can ask King Rodor? I’m sure he’ll marry you both.”

“I shall indeed. And…” Merlin turned to find Cligés and Fenice watching them. “I believe there’s a document Princess Mithian needs me to sign.”

“You should get back to your affairs, Good Prince.” Boeve bowed to him. “I will endeavor to hear our fellow knight’s reply with a fair ear. I assure you.”

“Do that.” Merlin walked over to the couple. “You heard him, Sir Cligés. If you could do me a favor? Please repay his fair ear with one of your own. Your business is your own. Still I want you both to hear each other out. Can you do that much for me?”

“He will, Prince Merlin. Thank you,” she assured him.

Cligés bristled. He felt her hand rest on his shoulder. Her eyes implored on Reason’s behalf for him to listen. “For Mother’s sake.” He bowed to Merlin. “Prince Merlin.”

_I’m not Prince yet. Why?_ Merlin complained to himself. Then he turned back to the duo. “Remember. King Uther massacred my kind. He drove my father into hiding. He nearly wiped out the dragons and other magical creatures. And yet, I served him and Camelot. I served for the Greater Good’s sake! Maybe you might think of something in that?” He smiled. Then he departed.

“There’s wisdom in his words, Cligés. Perhaps you might want to heed them?” Boeve considered the other knight. “We should be brothers-in-law instead of spitting across this practice field. Meleagant and your Uncle Alys are our common enemies not ourselves!”

“Tell my sister to stop insulting my father then! The Emperor did his duty! He left her with her life!” Cligés snapped.

“A vagabond’s life running from Alys and his hordes is a hard life. Josiane deserves her title as much as you! You both worship as you will. I wouldn’t force anything on her. She won’t on me. If and when we’re blessed with children then we’ll see for their sake. They will need you as well…again if we’re so blessed.” Boeve shook his head. “You spit on her. Despite that, Josiane tries to see past her own hate. Didn’t you hear her in the garden? She tries to separate you from them, Cligés. She prayed for your sake. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? She just wants her mother, you, your lady and me together. She’s not asking you to apologize for your father’s actions either way. She’s not trying to come between your mother and you. She’s not demanding your conversion. She wants you to see her for her.”

“Cligés, please. Let’s try. Please?” Fenice requested. “She is your sister. You heard Sir Boeve. She shouldn’t have to be alone any more. My father disavows me. Your Uncle hunts you. When will it be enough?” She hugged him. “My Love, I beg you. We have a family that wants us. We will still follow Him.”

“As long as we follow.” Cligés murmured Fenice’s words echoing them a few times. Much as Spring’s warmth striking the icy stretch, Logic scoured away Hate. Realization relaxed him. He gulped down the water and set the goblet down hard. “Sir Boeve?”

“Aye?” Boeve tensed not sure if he would be talking or drawing his blade next.

“Is that hand still outstretched?” Cligés asked. Hesitation slowly eased his own hand forward.

Boeve seized onto the other’s hand and arm. Then he embraced his comrade. “And more.” He sighed. Thank you! he expressed to the goddess. “When you’re ready, you can go to her.”

“I’d like to go now. Josiane should hear this presently. I still have my feelings. I want to try.”

“As she does for you,” Boeve reiterated. “We…” He noticed Gawain leading Soredamors and Josiane into the yard. “It seems she found you.” He stepped to the left allowing the younger man a clear path. He motioned toward the newcomers.

Cligés bowed his head. He murmured a low prayer. Then he inhaled deeply. Purpose propelled his strides across the grass toward the others. He stopped about two steps shy of them.

“Don’t start anything. Josiane has something she wants to say,” Gawain told him tersely.

“Uncle Gawain, I…wanted to say something first.” Cligés inhaled deeply again. “Josiane, I…” Contrition flooded his eyes with tears. He quivered and shook. “I’m sorry. I just know what my father told me. I….” He fell to his knees. 

Josiane closed her eyes. Goal eased her burden and dissipated before Apology’s plea. “We were both angry, Cligés. Maybe we should judge each other by our own actions? I was going to tell you that we can try to work together. Then if you want to leave, you could. Now I want to be your friend.”

“I don’t want that…” Cligés disagreed. “I deserve that. I know I need to prove myself to you. But I want more.”

“Pardon me? More? I don’t have wealth or land or anything! I…” Josiane protested.

Cligés shook his head. “NO! That’s not what I’m talking about!” He undid the clasp on his fine white cloak. “I don’t want those things. I just want to give to you.” He held the cloak out in front of himself. “Turn around. Please?”

Josiane’s eyes went wide. She looked toward Boeve who nodded. “I don’t need presents. Your apology’s fine.”

Soredamors wiped Joy’s tears from her cheeks. “That’s not what he means. Tell her, Cligés.” Anticipation threatened to stop her heart and seize her lungs.

“I want to try and be your brother. You’ve lost enough. Maybe I can clothe you? Instead of taking, I can give something back?” Cligés offered.

Josiane trembled. Her hands covered her mouth. Relief lightened her mind. “I’d like that…too. Just do it from the front? I want to watch you.” Her mouth relaxed into a smile.

“All right.” Cligés pulled the cloak around her shoulders. Then he secured the clasp. “There!” He bowed slightly at the waist.

“It is very nice. Thank you,” Josiane embraced him. “Just hold me please? No swords, hurtful intents or harmful words?”

“Just love, Sister.” 

The siblings grasped onto each other. For several heartbeats, they shared mutual warmth. Peace made initial inroads at least and perhaps more.

“Another miracle, Sorie,” Gawain remarked.

“Aye.” Soredamors hugged her brother as well. “After so long, we found each other again. They’ve discovered each other.”

“YEAH!” Gawain raised his hands. “I think we need some CELEBRATION! LET’S GO!”

The group chuckled and laughed. They followed him back into the castle trusting that his nose would know the way to the nearest wine cask.

 

****

 

Merlin stepped out of the shadows. Satisfaction spread a warm grin across his face. “Live it up.” His eyes twinkled.

“You are devious, my Prince,” Mithian teased. She leaned against the portal’s left edge.

“I planted the idea. They did the rest. I just followed your father’s example,” he told her.

“He’ll be happy to hear that.” She squeezed his arm. “Nevertheless, you sell yourself short again. Not even Prince yet officially as some servant or other likes to say and you help to put a family on the way to healing.”

“Mithian, I just did what any good person would do. Those two shouldn’t be at war with each other,” he deflected.

“Oh I agree. Not many though would forge a peace or guide it as smoothly as you just did. Father will be pleased.” Her lips brushed Appreciation’s balm upon his cheek. 

“I just want people to be happy, Mithian,” he insisted. Still Elation did warm his heart.

“As long as you share in some of those spoils, Merlin. Now let’s find them before Sir Gawain gets too industrious,” she affirmed.

He coughed and followed her lead out of the yard. Funny that he did so, his feet didn’t even feel the ground as they tread across it.


	11. Unexpected Garden Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin mulls over things. Mithian gives him (yet another) pep talk. Then a new comer shows up out of nowhere.

Conclusion   
[A While Later]

With Gladness’ tidings buoying up the ambiance, everything turned to a better pace. Gawain’s impromptu party lightened moods and buzzed minds. (At least until Britomart cut him off at three goblets worth. [She was in a good mood. What can I say?]) Celebration’s feast tempted stomachs and taste buds alike with capon, roast, fresh vegetables and sweets galore.

Cligés’ apology to the court brought him a warm embrace from Rodor. Everyone nodded. Their views of the young knight rose along with Esteem’s good grace. When offered the chance to kneel and receive a knighthood from Nemeth, he would not accept it…

…at least not until he could request that his sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law were inducted as well….

Rodor motioned the couple to the front. There he knighted the family’s entire generation legitimizing the exiles under his own banner.

And so went the feelings at that point…..

 

****

 

[Courtyard Garden—A Little Later Still]

Merlin led Mithian into the crystalline area. Their eyes took in still more kinds of plants around them (or so it seemed). The scents combined to produce a gentle scent wafting through their noses.

And, as it was late afternoon, Sunset’s colors streaked the area with a brilliant kaleidoscope of rouges, reds, oranges and yellows.

She sniffed deeply of the lilacs. Contentment relaxed her mood. She smiled. “Who ever thought I’d do this now? I’d say July or August, my Prince, but not now.”

The jungle-like backdrop released his thinking from the world. Oasis freed his mind from all concerns and pursuits…

…well except for his Princess Fair that is….

“It’s a blessing. Can’t believe the miracles,” he replied.

“Faith is a powerful thing. Could be as well when a certain Prince believes enough in himself that he can work miracles? Of course he doesn’t understand that the most powerful magic comes from the heart and not his sorcery,” she jabbed. Her eyes sparkled. A saucy smirk spread across her face. “Remember, Merlin, we’re no longer in Camelot. This is Nemeth. Here you’re my miracle maker.”

“And you’re mine,” he told her. 

She wiped a stray tear from her eye. “Just don’t get a swelled head. We still have our rough edges to smooth out.” She kissed him on the cheek.

He grinned enjoying her little joke at his expense. “You did ensnare me, Mighty Hunter.”

She snickered. Her smirk returned and grew ever bigger by the heartbeat. “I did. Didn’t I?”

His eyes glowed canary at her. “Look up.”

She coughed. Then she glanced skyward to find a few of their favorite sprigs and white berries hanging over their heads. “Merlin, that’s only at Solstice.”

“Well who says it can’t be in here?” he suggested.

She snorted. “I’ve created a monster.” She kissed him. “Another week, Merlin. Then we won’t have to worry about propriety or any such thing.”

At that point, a bright lavender light washed across every inch of the garden and the royals. It dazzled eyes and seemed to make the plants themselves stand more at attention.

“What was that?” She looked around.

“I don’t…” Then he heard a stick breaking. After that some ferns and undergrowth rustled straight ahead. 

_Merlin, there’s someone else here!_ She stiffened.

_I know._ Merlin stepped in front of her. “COME OUT! STEP OUT AND BE RECOGNIZED!”

A tall and broad-shouldered figure stumbled out of the foliage. His boots touched the cobblestones. His gray cloak fluttered in the light breeze. His dark hair now covered his neck and touched his collar. Anxiety unsteadied his gait. His eyes darted about.

_Merlin, who?_ She wondered.

He grinned. Somehow, unlike before, he knew the stranger’s identity. He didn’t feel Suspicion’s or Doubt’s respective pestering. “Lancelot?”

“Merlin? MERLIN!” Lancelot embraced the former servant. “Then I’m back!”

“Yeah you are! This is so great!” Merlin returned the embrace. “What happened?”

“The triple goddess sent me back. You need knights. And you know me. If anyone’s worthy to be served, I pick you. She filled me in. It’s about time!” Lancelot clapped the Warlock on the back. Exuberance lit up his eyes. 

“Aye. Well…I had help. A lot of help. There’s this Princess and….” Merlin started.

A throat cleared behind him.

Lancelot sighed. “Merlin, I know.” His eyes twinkled at his friend. Then he turned to Mithian. “And you are Princess Mithian. The pleasure is mine. Thank you for raising him up.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. 

“I have heard many stories of your prowess, Sir Lancelot. King Rodor will be honored to include you in our ranks. Since a certain Prince didn’t do it, I welcome you to Nemeth,” she declared. Her eyes sparkled at her fiancé. She smirked at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Lancelot knew that’s what I meant.”

“I don’t know, Merlin. Did I?” Lancelot teased. He considered the garden. “She said this is considerable. I am blessed to be in a place like this. As far as you’re concerned, it’s about time. Princess, a request?”

“If I can,” she agreed.

“When you knight me, knight Merlin too. That way he won’t be able to back out,” Lancelot proposed.

She grinned. “Sir Lancelot, I believe we’re going to get along just fine. If we can teach our Prince to respect himself and smooth those rough edges, it’ll be a better world.”

“Don’t knock what he does now…as long as he doesn’t get a swelled head.” Lancelot coughed.

Merlin shook his head feeling slightly outnumbered. Still, given the backdrop and those around himself, he frankly didn’t care one bit.

And in such ways, Peace and _Amor_ softened gaits and warmed hearts in preparation for rituals ahead….

 

THE END (for now)


End file.
